WELCOME TO MY GARDEN
by KKBELVIS
Summary: The boys are hexed. Bobby prepares a spell to unhex them, but something goes very, very, very, very wrong - very! Story is complete. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

WELCOME TO MY GARDEN

By: Karen B.

Summary: The boys are hexed. Bobby prepares a spell to unhex them, but something goes very, very, very, very wrong - very!

Rated: Welcome to my kooky story! A little bit of humor, maybe even crack. Little bit of endearing Bobby. Little bit of hurt Sam…little bit of protective Dean. Quite a bit of kooky, blended in with a bit of fun - I hope. Dean POV.

Time set: Early years.

Disclaimer: Dude, not the owner! Obviously.

Rated: Please don't beat me with a 'damned' wooden spoon for this!

Note: Story is complete. Will post more very soon.

/ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bobby stood at the stove a frayed dishtowel slung over his shoulder, steady hand stirring the contents he was brewing in a large cast-iron pot with a wooden spoon.

"What were you two thinking?" he growled, like one of his vicious junkyard dogs.

"What were we supposed to be thinking?" I asked Bobby, peering over his shoulder at the thick, gray, bubbling crap in the pot that looked a lot like that fruity shit at the bottom of Sam's yogurt cup. I swallowed hard, leaning toward Sam, who was standing right beside me. "Dude, I whispered in his ear, "Don't drink that."

"I can't believe you two dog-gone idgits let that witch put a hex on you!" Wooden spoon in hand, Bobby turned away from the boiling pot on the stove, releasing his boiling anger on me. "From the chant Sam described, the next time one of you kisses a lady friend, you'll turn into a toad." Bobby shrugged. "'Course… I don't really care, but your lady friend might. What's really got me riled is the fact you go and blow her away to smithereens before you get her to reverse the curse. Dumb." Bobby frowned at me. "And," he directed at Sam, "Dumber."

"Hey." Sam held up both hands. "I didn't even see her coming after her little chant. She got me from behind." Sam sent me a bitchy look. "Dean's the one who killed her." Sam's bitchy look, flipped to innocent-puppy the second his eyes met back up with Bobby's.

"Thanks for that, Sam," I growled. "You didn't see her coming, if you recall, because you were too busy being passed out on the floor, curled into a ball."

"I wasn't passed out Dean. I was unconscious," Sam defended.

"Whatever, man. The green bitch, was a total bitch, Bobby. I had no choice but to gank her before she ganked us."

"Well, don't that just dill my pickle." Bobby scowled.

'Dill my pickle?' I mouthed, glancing over at Sam who seemed just as confused by the words as I was.

"Boy, you are two bricks shy of a full load, ain't ya?"

"So sue me." I dared Bobby. " I got a lousy twenty bucks to my name." I ducked away from the wooden spoon, suddenly stabbing a little too close to my head.

"Don't sas me, Dean Eugene Winchester!" Bobby spat, his face stone-cold.

"Oh, God." I cringed at the use of my middle name.

"God can't help you, now. You're not too old for me to tan your backside with this spoon. You here me, kid?" Bobby directed his wrath toward Sam. "And you," Bobby said, spoon lashing out in a whoosh, just barely missing Sam's right ear. "That big, doe-eyed thing…don't work on me."

"It's more like that big, puppy-eyed thing," I corrected.

Sam and Bobby both shot me a withering glare. "Shut up, Dean." Their combined voices, shrill in my ears.

"Look, Bobby." I reflexively reached for the spoon. "Can you put that thing down and chill."

Bobby's eyes went wide, like I'd just peeled a band aide off a fresh wound. "Only thing that's gonna be doin' any chillin', son, is your ass-end on a block of ice when I get done with you."

Bobby made his move, like friggin' Clint Eastwood drawing twin pistols. Before I could whistle Dixie, the 'damned' wooden spoon came down with a whack on top of my head.

"Ouch. Hey. That hurt." I rubbed at the forming lump.

"Well it ain't supposed to tickle." Bobby eyed me, about to haul off and whack me again - harder.

"Okay, okay, all right." Sam slid in between us. "Wait, wait, Bobby. We're sorry. We screwed up." Baby brother held up both hands apologetically, a horrified look on his face - one I recognized.

Sam and I had both felt the pain and misfortune of picking splinters out of our butt-cheeks. And we'd thought Dad's punishment regime was bad.

I remembered vividly the day little twelve-year-old Sammy had gotten swatted ten times across his bare ass, for hiding out all night in a '56' Ford Fairlane (ugly mother of a car) reading one of Bobby's monster manuals. When I was fifteen, I'd gotten double Sam's punishment for drinking half a bottle of the man's best Scotch. Even after all these years, Bobby still thought it his job to scare-us-straight with the 'damned' thing - worked too.

"Look, Bobby…" I stepped protectively around and in front of Sam - couldn't let the kid take a swat for me.

"Boy! Don't you 'look Bobby', me!" Bobby rushed forward, twirling the 'damned' spoon in the air, like a hooded ninja assassin with a Samurai sword.

"Ho, ho, ho!" I backed Sam and I up against the edge of the kitchen table. "Bobby, easy with that thing."

"Sit!" Bobby ordered, pointing the deadly weapon right at my chest. "Or I'll spoon your hearts out."

"Crap!" Sam and I sounded off together, scrambling over each other in a crazed game of musical chairs to find a seat.

Bobby rolled his eyes. "Idgits," he huffed, going back to the boiling pot, blending oils, herbs and whatever other smelly, dead shit he had put in there to reverse the hex. "So, which one of you forgot to use the rings of protection I gave you?"

I glanced across the table at Sam. He had that 'nu-uh he did it' look on his face.

"Waiting on an answer, dilly and dally." Bobby stopped stirring.

I could tell by the way Bobby's back stiffened if one of us didn't come up with a good answer and fast - we'd be researching local companies that delivered blocks of ice. Wasn't my fault the rings happen to slip down the drain in the men's room at that gas station we'd stopped at; while fighting Sam for possession of the last papertowel.

I gave Sam a quick, swift kick under the table. "Answer the man, Sam."

"Rrrr," Sam cleared his throat. "Sir, we both did, sir," he said, never taking his eyes off me.

"So, this stuff will undo the hex?" I asked, watching Bobby closely as he set the 'damned' spoon down and began to ladle the thick potion he'd just concocted into two, white china teacups.

"Ladies. Teatime" Bobby brought us the drinks.

I quirked a brow at Sam. 'Teacups?' I mouthed.

Sam shrugged.

"Drink up." Bobby sat the delicate china cups on the saucers in front of us. "Before you two start scratching in the dirt and clucking, like the complete chicken-shit igits that you are."

"I thought we were going to turn into toads," I pressed.

"Boy!"

"All right, all right." I picked up the gay teacup, steam curling its way into my nose.

The pungent scent, one I couldn't describe to save my life, gagged me. I glanced over at Sam. He looked virgin-white, sniffing at the drink, also gagging. Maybe turning toad wouldn't be so bad.

"Drink! That's not a request!" Bobby put both hands on his hips, daring us to disobey, like he was some old woman. "You two boys are not leaving this table until you drink every last drop!" He turned to pick up the 'damned' spoon, a show of force. "You best get to drinkin'," he advised.

"You first." I told Sam.

"Why me?"

"Because I'm the awesome, big brother… and because… I said so."

"Dude, that's not fair."

"It's just one cup, drink it, man… or else." I tipped my chin toward Bobby who was clearing the counter, still holding that damned spoon at the ready.

Sam looked at Bobby, shivered hard, then brought the teacup to his lips. He took a whiff. "Guh," he choked, turning his head away. "Smells like, smells like, like…like…"

"A dog's ass," I helped Sam out.

"Doesn't matter what it smells like, drink!" Bobby ordered in a no-nonsense tone as he brought the entire pot to the table and plunked the dog's ass smack in the middle between Sam and I. "The whole pot, or the spell won't be lifted." Bobby smiled, laying down the law.

Sam and I looked at each other in utter horror. One gay teacup of dog's ass - I could handle - but a whole friggin' pot?

"I'll be in the other room doing some reading." Bobby, A.K.A., Rachel Ray, walked out of the kitchen - 'damned' spoon in hand. "I can hear you choking and gurgling from out here, so don't think about leaving the table until every drop is gone," Bobby hollered from the other room.

"Dean…I…uhhhh." Sam looked like he'd just swallowed his tongue.

"Pretend it's Caviar, Sammy."

He curled his lip in obvious disgust. "Not helping."

I put my game face on. "Cheers, bro."

We clinked our teacups against one another's and took a swig of the thick, creamy gelatin at the same time.

"Oh. My. God," Sam choked and gurgled.

"Sonofabitch." I pressed my knuckles hard against my mouth, desperate not to puke dog's ass all over Bobby's red tablecloth.

TBC…


	2. Chapter 2

WELCOME TO MY GARDEN

Chapter Two

"Damn," I groaned, blinking open my eyes. For a moment I thought of nothing. Why was I so out of it? Drunken binge? Brain tumor? I squeezed my eyes shut, quickly opening them again - still no help. "Huh?" Why was I laid out flat on my back, in the pebbly dirt, and staring straight into a blue and puffy-white clouded sky? I tried to sit up. "Shit!" I flopped back down as if something had hit me in the chest. The clouds spun, and my head hurt, like it was made out of glass and some kid had just thrown a baseball through me. "Uhhh." I wanted to crawl out of my own skin. Placing both shaking hands to the ground, I struggled back to sitting, my body slow to respond. I shook the fog from my vision - the whole world was watery and jumped about. What the hell happened? I tried to fill in the memory gap - nothing. I concentrated harder, that hurt. Finally I remembered, the last thing I remembered; Bobby waving that 'damned' spoon. Sam and I sitting across from each other at the kitchen table, drinking…"Sam? Sam!" I shouted, glancing all around. "Saaammy!" If I felt this bad, I could only imagine how Sam had faired. Kid got drunk off fermented Yoo-hoo. "Sa…" I choked, spitting dirt and straw from my mouth. "Sam."

Hell, maybe I wasn't the drinking type either. What were we drinking, anyway? I pushed to my feet, swaying and holding a hand to the side of my head. I waited for the wooziness to stop. Took a moment, but the merry-go-round I was on finally ran out of juice. Still, I felt strange. Forget strange, and go with crazy. When had I gone on a wilderness mountain hike and why? As far as I could see, I was surrounded by brown, jagged boulders and craters that seemed to stretch for miles. Not so much as a bird sang or a breeze stirred. Wherever this place was, it was the last place on earth I wanted to be. The silence was eerie, and the emptiness just friggin' weird. I started walking. There were no roads, no houses, no trees. I was completely turned around. Had no clue what direction I was walking in. I swiped the sweat from my brow, still feeling very dizzy. I'd only been walking five minutes, but needed a break. The rock-strewn terrain was difficult. Struggling over large chunks of stone and dirt packed hills wasn't easy, especially when your head felt like Jose Cuervo had moved in with Jack Daniels, and they were both happily drinking Jager bombs - while throwing darts between your eyes. I had only gained a few hundred yards when I stopped to catch my breath, leaning against a pitted wall of rock.

"Sam!" I shouted as loud as I could then listened hard. Again, I got no answer. I was worried sick about him. Was he out here somewhere, too? Half-stunned. Hanging out on the edge of a cliff or at the bottom of one. "Come on! Where are you?" My voice echoed back at me. A cool breeze kicked up, and it was like a sharp slap across the face. Not only had I lost my way, and my brother, but I'd also lost my brain."Stupid, son of a bitch! Think, Dean, think." My hands shook as I wrestled my cell out of my jacket pocket. Just when I was about to press the button for Sam's cell, the phone rang. "Dude!" I answered. "Where the hell are you?" I growled.

"Dean," Sam slurred. "Don' know."

"You okay?"

Sam was silent for two seconds too long.

"Sammy?" I pushed away from the rock, my heart pounding fast and hard.

"Feels like I have a hangover, man," Sam moaned.

"Sam, look around, what do you see?" I asked, struggling to keep my composure.

"It's kinda dark."

"You mobile?"

Sam panted and I knew he was struggling. "I'm s-stuck…in something sticky."

My mind raced. What the hell could he be sticky-stuck in? Everything here was made of stone. I looked all around. Sam was here. Somewhere close. I didn't know how I knew - I just knew. I was scared. I needed to get to him, but didn't know which direction to go.

"Dean?"

I swallowed the dryness in my throat. "I'm here," I said firmly, not wanting him to hear my fear. "Sam, I'm coming." Keeping the phone tucked between my shoulder and ear, I picked a direction and started scrambling over the rocks. "Can you unstick yourself?"

"More I move…" Sam huffed. "More stuck I get. Gah."

"Sam, are you bleeding? What hurts?"

There was a pause.

"Sam, tell me!" I demanded, slipping around a jagged boulder, nearly dropping the phone.

"Shoulder," Sam half-mumbled.

"How bad?"

"Think s' dislocated."

I winced, dislocated shoulders were a bitch. The slightest movements were unbelievably painful, I had to find him.

"Sammy, what do you see?"

"Not much. It's like I'm under a huge storm cloud. Rocky cliff to the left."

"What do the rocks look like?" I needed information, anything I could go on. I tripped over my own feet as I tried to move faster. Crap. Was I getting closer to Sam or farther away.

"They're rocks, Dean, they look like rocks."

"Sam!" I climbed on top one of the look-alike rocks to get a better view of the area.

"I don't know," Sam muttered. "Like a pointy rat's nose."

"Bro, you got to give me something more than that to go on here. What do you smell? Can you hear anything? Cars? Train? A cricket?"

"Watermelon."

I frowned. "Dude, what the hell does watermelon sound like?"

"Not hear, Dean, smell." I could almost see Sam rolling his eyes at me. "Every now and again I can hear a loud sound."

"Explain the sound," I turned in a circle, eyes scanning every direction.

"Ka-chuck," Sam said. "Here, listen"

There was a moments silence, then I heard the 'ka-chunk' Sam was talking about echo through the phone. I knew that sound - familiar - but not. I struggled to diagnose the noise. It was loud and plopping, like something was leaking, dripping - something huge.

"Did you hear that?" Sam came back on.

"Yeah, same sound your head makes when you think to much. Ha!" I tired to laugh, but it came out more of a groan.

Still standing on top the rock, I searched for anything, something that would tell me where Sam was. I seemed to get my bearings. The sun shown high in the sky. To the North - rocks. To the South - rocks. To the East - more fucking rocks. To the West - I blinked several times -something. "Yhatzee!" A black and shadowy storm cloud, beyond that, what appeared to be trees. Sam had said it was dark.

"Sam, I'm coming just hang…uh…stick tough, okay?" I slid down off the rock.

"Dean, what about Bobby?"

"Bobby!" I exclaimed, teeter-tottering off my feet a little, trying to keep the merry-go-round from starting back up.

"Yeah, Dean, Bobby. You know, that guy with the 'damned' wooden spoon? Any word from him? Maybe if his anti-hex potion backfired he's here someplace, too."

"Bobby! Shit!" I collected myself, in my worry for Sam I'd forgotten about Bobby. Leave it to Sam to kick-start my brain. I bit my bottom lip as I picked up my pace. I was going to have to hang up with Sam. Try to call Bobby, and conserve our cell phone's batteries. Who knew how long we'd be stuck out here in no-man's-land. Sam stuck in hell knows what, unable to defend himself. "Sammy look…"

"Stop biting your lip, Dean, and call Bobby."

"Huh." I exchanged my lip biting for a small smile. Baby brother knew me all too well.

"Hey, Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"After you get hold of Bobby, you need to find me. Okay?" Sam exhaled noisily.

I squeezed my eyes shut ever so briefly. Sam was scared, I could hear it in his tone. "Bro…."

"Dean, just hang up and hurry."

I nodded, angrily flipping my cell shut, jamming the phone back into a pocket, and going back to biting my bottom lip.

It would be a hike to the dark clouded area, but it was the only clue I had to go on.

TBC…


	3. Chapter 3

WELCOME TO MY GARDEN

Chapter three

I'd tried to get hold of Bobby four time, but each time he answered, he couldn't hear a word I was saying. I was going to try a fifth time but gave up, calling Sam to check on him, but the cell just went to voice mail.

Batting zero, I went with my only choice, to keep going, find the black, storm cloud, find Sam. I'd been running and climbing at full throttle for hours. Moving in and out of, up and over every kind of rock known to man - or rock. Big rocks, small rocks, fat rocks, skinny rocks. Rocks with holes running straight through them. Rocks that glittered in the sun. Rocks, rocks, rocks. Everywhere I looked all I saw was dirt and rocks - rocks and dirt. My head hurt. If I didn't know any better, I'd say Jose and Jack had stopped throwing darts between my eyes and had started throwing rocks.

Needing to catch my breath, I bent over, hands on my knees and dragging in deep breath after deep breath. When I finally gathered my second wind, I straightened. I hated this damn canyon, gorge, valley, Stonehenge wanna be, whatever this place was.

I titled my head, and glanced skyward. The sun was starting to go down. I had to find Sam before it got…I heard a groan - sort of, kind of, almost a groan.

"What the?" I listened harder - there it was again - defiantly a groan. And not just any groan, my wimpy baby brother's groan. I glanced to my left, seeing a rock in the shape of a woman's perky breast. "Bro, no wonder you never hookup. Rat's nose, my ass." I took three, long strides around a deeply grooved black boulder, shivering as the sun seemed to disappear and everything got dark fast, like I was in some sort of cave.

Before I could look up and check the sky for rain, I froze. Sam was only a few yards ahead of me, struggling weakly in some stringy, pink crappy stuff. He was all twisted and wrapped up in the sticky strands. I briefly wondered if some nasty, giant supernatural spider might be around, but this didn't look like any web I'd ever seen. I sure hoped not anyway as all I'd had on me was a Bowie knife, and a flask of whiskey.

"Dean!" Sam caught my eye and I unfroze.

"Sam." I ran toward him, sliding to a stop at the edge of the pink glob. Me, getting stuck too, wouldn't help Sam. "How the? What the? How'd you?" I scrubbed a hand down my face, and shook my head. "What is that stuff?"

"Doesn't matter," Sam grouched. "Just get me out." Sam's face, behind the girly- pink stuff stuck there, was pale from him struggling so hard. Long strands of his locks were also stuck in the pink goop, and I winced knowing I'd have to cut his hair to get the crap out. I briefly recalled the 1958 Steve McQueen movie 'The Blob.' But that thing was red, this was pink and obviously not a living life form as it had not eaten Sam alive. Nor was Sam screaming at me to run and save myself.

"Hey, pal, looks like I'm going to have to try and cut you loose from that…this…what your stuck in." I pulled my knife from its sheath.

"It's gum," Sam muttered as he stopped thrashing.

I took a step back. "Wait. What?"

"Gum. It's gum, Dean," Sam sputtered.

"But…but how?" I frowned at the over-sized wad.

"Doesn't matter how…'cause seriously….it's gum and it's in my hair and…and just get me out of here!" Sam yelled.

"Okay, stop you're bitchin', bitch." Careful not to step in the…the…the gum…I began to saw away at the sticky strands that held baby brother in place. I nervously glanced around. "Gum the size of a Volkswagen, Sam, who's gum? Big Red Dog?"

"Stop brainstorming, I've already done that."

**Ka-chunk.**

"Y' know what's happening?" I asked, sawing away. "And what the hell is that noise?"

"Unstick me and I'll explain." Sam struggled.

"Fine, and after you explain, I'll explain the difference between a rat's nose and a woman's …"

Ggggrrrr!" Sam grunted and winced with each pull of his left shoulder. "Get. Me. Out."

"Okay. Okay." I nodded sawing faster, freeing his legs. "Almost there."

"Ahahah!" Sam wiggled and pulled and kicked as I cut through each pink strand.

"Stop throwing a tantrum," I said.

"Hurts." Sam took a deep breath.

"Keep still you idiot," I scolded, then flinched, dislocated shoulders - sucked. " I'll pop it back when I get you outta here."

"What about my hair?" Sam stilled, panting heavily and squeezing his eyes shut tight.

"Dude, you plan on entering a beauty pageant?" I laughed, knowing the only way that gum was coming out of his hair was to cut it out. "There you go, Miss Kansas." I'd finally sawed my way through, freeing both Sam's arms.

"Shut up, man." With an aggressive wiggle-waggle, Sam worked his way to the edge of the pink wad.

"Gahhh!" He clasped his injured shoulder.

"So…" I gritted my teeth, almost feeling Sam's pain. "I called you back, why didn't you answer?" I asked, cutting away the last of the strands holding him down.

"I lost my phone." Sam opened his eyes giving me that annoying puppy dog look.

"Let me guess. In the watermelon flavored chewing gum?"

He nodded, yes.

"Look, let's just get you out of here before it rains."

"It's not going to rain, Dean."

"What are you the weather man?"

"What, are you?"

"Whatever." I gripped Sam under the armpits, and jerked him the rest of the way free of the gum. We tumbled backward together. I landed on my back into the dirt, my sticky brother landing on top of me.

"Uhhh," Sam cried. "D'n, m' shoulder." He barely held the tears back, his left arm dangling useless, fingers twitching.

I scrambled out from under Sam as he struggled to his knees. Crouching in front of him, I met his eyes. "You ready for this?"

Sam took in a breath and held it. I gave Sam the 'brace yourself' nod, and he glanced away. It was an injury I'd fixed for him one hundred times before, but never got any easier. Biting into my lower lip as if the pain were about to be my own, I gripped his left arm firmly. One quick, violent jerk and…

"Gaaaa…od damnit!" Sam cursed, slumping forward into my arms.

"Sorry, brother, sorry."

Sam fell silent, taking in small breaths and fighting the pain.

"Shhh, I know, shhh," I soothed.

I gave Sam a few minutes, holding him close as I glanced around.

**Ku-chunk. **

Place was just as barren and rocky here, save for the second-hand gum, and the fact it seemed to be getting darker by the minute. This was off. Way off. We sat in the shadow of an impending storm, baby brother saddled with a dislocated shoulder and looking at loosing half his locks; while I wildly racked my brain. Maybe this was some sort of apocalyptic hell hole. I took in a deep breath - no sulphur, but there was something familar.

"Dean." Sam pushed away from me.

"What's that smell?" I glanced left.

"Dean."

"Smells familiar." I looked behind me.

"Dean I have to..."

**Ku-chunk.**

"And what is that noise?" I glanced right.

"Dean, listen…"

"And that smell…" I glanced left again.

"Dean, I have to tell you…"

"Smells like someones suck-ass car is leaking oil."

Sam muttered, "It's the Impala."

"Dude." My gaze fell on Sam. "My baby does not leak a drop of oil or any other mechanical fluid."

Sam pointed a finger upward. "That's no storm cloud we're sitting under, Dean."

I looked up, blinking. I was confused by what I was seeing. No sky I ever saw looked like that. "That makes no sense." I felt weird, unbalanced. I knew what I was looking at right away, but I couldn't… I didn't…how'd…

"Oh, hell, no." I continued to gaze upward in utter disbelief. "No. No. This isn't…" I turned to Sam who was now standing next to me, clutching his shoulder. "It's definitely not…" Eyes locked on Sam, I pointed an angry finger up at…at…. "This is craziness! How's my baby leaking oil and how'd she grow ten sizes too big?" I was weirding out.

"She didn't."

"What are you blind, man?" I waved my hand around, like I was swatting at a swarm of killer bees. "Sam, explain."

"We grew ten sizes, too small," Sam said in to clam a tone, weirding me out even more.

"What?" I snapped.

"All I can figure, Dean, is that Bobby's un-hexing spell must have backfired. We've been miniaturized."

My eyes went wide. "You mean like, Honey I Shrunk The Kids - only without all the cool effects?"

Sam nodded.

I thought for a moment. This was totally uncool. We weren't on some wilderness mountain range hike, we were in Bobby's salvage yard, a place I grew up in. A place I knew like the back of my hand and Sam's. There were a million places to hide in the shadows, in cars, under cars. This was worse than any wilderness hike, the salvage yard wasn't just home to the rusted junk heaps of days gone by. There were big-eyed birds, whisker-nosed rats, and a variety snakes that also made there home here. I shivered, Sam and I were probably the size of a toothbrush head, maybe smaller. Spiders, ants, centipedes, beetles, all the creepy crawlies we used to catch and dissect would now be dinosaur-sized. The salvage yard turned Jurassic Park, and all I had on me was my wallet, a Bowie knife, and a half-empty flask of whiskey.

"What you got on you?" I asked Sam.

"Holy water, switch blade, half a granola bar, and a Coke can in my jacket pocket," Sam huffed.

"We are so friggin' fucked.!" I yelled, looking back up at my baby.

"More like friggin' freaked," Sam added.

**Ka-chunk.**

Not too far ahead of us, I finally saw the cause of the annoying noise - an oil leak.

"This so sucks ass."

"Dean, we'll fix it."

"Thank you, Mr. NASA scientist," I growled. "How, Sam? We're probably less than a half-inch tall… how the hell are we going to fix an oil leak the size of Lake Superior?"

"Gosh, Dean, and the Impala leaking oil is a life or death situation," Sam drawled.

I gave one last look at my ailing baby. "Let's go." I stormed off, embarking on what I knew was going to be a very long journey.

"Where to?" Sam called from behind.

"Pilgrimage to Bobby's house."

We'd shrunk at warp speed, I only hoped Bobby had a way to warp us back to normal size just as fast.

TBC…


	4. Chapter 4

_WELCOME TO MY GARDEN_

_Chapter Four_

_I wasn't sure how long Sam and I had been walking, or if we were even going in the right direction. Judging by where my overgrown baby was parked, I figured we were. I knew the salvage yard like I knew every freckle on Sam's back. But this. Talk about no man's land, the place I'd known so well, was now marked - unknown territory. What I was sure of was that it was getting darker, and Sam - he was getting slower. I knew his shoulder had to be killing him. He kept his arm clutched close to his chest, and his breath hitched every now and again. I gazed over at him, he had to right himself when his feet wronged themselves, threatening to slip out from under him. Kid must have fought with all he had in him to get free of the gum. I inched closer, my arm brushing his, if he took a nosedive, I'd wanted to be able to catch him before he hit the dirt._

_I kept a sharp eye on the landscape before us. So far, we hadn't seen a living thing. Odd, but good. A Bowie knife and pig sticker would be perfect weapons against a rat, and booted feet could easily smash any bug that crept along - under normal circumstances. These were not normal circumstances. And Sam, he was almost spent, he wouldn't have enough strength to battle a piece of pocket lint after all that gum wrestling. At least rocky mountain high had turned into soil-packed ground, that made the trek to Bobby's a bit easier to handle._

_A breeze whooshed across the ground and I had to grab hold of Sam to keep him from blowing easily away like a piece of tissue paper. I wordlessly wrapped an arm around his waist, guiding us around what I thought to be a rusted tire iron._

_"Sam -"_

_"I'm okay."_

_"You sure? You don't look like you feel so good."_

_Sam flexed his shoulder, and grimaced. "Yeah," he said with a tremble in his voice._

_I stared intently. "Man, don't move your shoulder like that."_

_"Man…" Sam stared ahead, blinking hard. "No kidding."_

_"So which is it? Yeah, you're okay? Or, yeah, you don't feel so good?"_

_"Both," Sam said, in a small voice, staring ahead and blinking hard._

_I followed his gaze._

_"What is that?" I stared at the brown wall blocking our path, and sniffed in something sickeningly sweet. When your this small, sight isn't as important as smell apparently. "What's that smell?"_

_Sam frowned. "Roses. I think."_

_I drew in deeper breath. "And Aqua Velva."_

_My gaze traveled up the wall, wondering how high the barrier went. The graffiti colors changed from black, to brown, to blue, to a creepy, wrinkled, white bearded face with dead, blue eyes and a pointy red hat._

_"Holy…who the fuck is that?" I drew my knife, roughly shoving Sam behind me, vaguely aware of him crying out in pain. "Sammy, stay back!" I took a fighting stance._

_"Dean, relax, man, it's not real."_

_"What?" I gripped the knife tighter._

_"It's a gnome."_

_"A freaky elf," I grumbled._

_"A freaky gnome, Dean. You know, a ceramic lawn decoration. Read the sign."_

_"Gnome, elf, troll, hobgoblin, Brad fucking Pit in a dunce cap. Sam, I don't care what it is." I read the sign I just noticed the freaky, big fellow holding:_

_WELCOME TO MY GARDEN_

_"Garden? Who's…"_

_As if to answer my question, a voice, like thunder, sang backup for some whiney, crap country song. "I'm so lonesome I could cry." The voice was so loud, I cringed, my eardrums nearly splitting wide._

_Sam and I turned to face one another. There was only one person we both knew who was a cowboy song junkie._

_"Bobby?" We chimed together. _

_We raced along side each other, following the sound of Bobby's singing - and not because we were fans, either. The loud booming noise was hard to take, like thunder echoing off the walls of a sewer. We ran through what we soon came to recognize as neat rows of vegetables, herbs and flowers. I read the giant, handcrafted markers labeling each plant's identity in fancy script as we passed by them: Parsley, ginger, sage, thyme, rosemary, eggplant, cucumbers and tomatoes. _

_What was probably mere inches for a normal sized man, was miles for Sam and I._

_"Bobby treats his garden like a beloved pet," I noted." This was one nutty, mixed up sort of world. "Did you know Bobby had a garden?" I asked Sam, carefully rounding the deadly-sharp thorns of a red rose bush._

_"No," Sam panted, falling behind slightly._

_"It's crazy," I muttered, glancing at a plant that had no marker and that I was pretty sure was illegal in every state._

_"Crazy, because we're shrunk or crazy because it's Bobby?" Sam breathed heavily._

_"Because it's Bobby." I shivered, partly because the giant plants reaching for the sky had cut off most the sun, partly because I'd never figured a tough hunter like Bobby to be such a flower child. "Dude…" I slowed my pace, so Sam could keep up. "That's about as gay as Oprah is straight."_

_"How do you know Oprah is straight, Dean?" Sam wheezed._

_I glanced back, Sam had slowed even more trailing farther behind. Kid was wasted._

_"Everybody knows Oprah is straight," I said, moving past pastel painted stones the size of Gibraltar. _

_I took note of more garden markers, lovingly made out of Popsicle sticks with the same fancy, handwritten script. To the East, a heart shaped flag flapped in the breeze - also welcoming us to the garden. Time was as big as we were small, and I had no idea how much more light of day there was left. The singing had long ceased, I stopped, pulling my cell phone out and scrolling down to Bobby's name. We had to be closer to the house. Maybe giant Bobby could hear us from here. _

_"Voice mail," I growled._

_I suddenly got a strange feeling and it wasn't coming from my rumbling, hungry stomach. It was coming from behind me. "How you doing back there, Stewart." I turned around. Sam was just standing there. "You okay?" I asked. He didn't answer. "You're looking a bit woozy. Don't need you passing out on me." No answer. "Talk to me." I frowned._

_Sam shook his head. "I…" his eyes disappeared up into his head and he sank toward the ground._

_"Sammy!" I lunged forward, grabbing a handful of his jacket, catching him before he could face plant in the dirt. "Hey, hey, hey." I eased him down to sit. "Time out, man." I crouched in front of him, keeping my hand twisted into his jacket. _

_Sam stared past me, his eyes fixed almost like he was in a trance. "What is it?" I turned to look._

_"I give up, Dean, you tell me." He pointed at a pile of large, jagged, gleaming white…_

_"Teeth?" I shook my head. _

_"Maybe," Sam said._

_"Great, probably twenty thousand dollars worth of dental work Godzilla had done," I laughed - Sam didn't._

_"Seriously?" Sam snapped. "'Cause, Dean, this isn't funny. Bobby is up there." Sam pointed skyward. "He must be wondering where we are. He'll never find us, let alone see us. I doubt he'll go crawling around on his hands and knees using a magnifying glass. 'Cause he's too busy tending his garden and singing country songs. I'm sure he doesn't have a clue we've shrunk." Sam was wigging out. I said nothing, and let him. "C-cause in case you hadn't noticed, big brother, and I use the term loosely, we're the size of molecules, and the Impala's twice the size of Texas, and, Dean, you know there's cockroaches in the salvage yard. We used to shoot them with our pellet guns," Sam panted. "Cockroaches that are now the size of a large shark, and I never knew Bobby had a garden, and I have no idea where we are geographically, and there's gum in my hair, and we are so screwed," Sam heaved a sigh, obviously out of breath._

_I nodded enthusiastically. "You all done, drama boy?"_

_Sam averted his eyes to the ground "Yeah." He rubbed at the back of his neck._

_"You sure?" I smiled, noting the heated blush that had crept into his cheeks._

_"Sorry. It's just that you're…"_

_"Witty, and charming, and devoid of whiney crap, and you, my little brother, have gum in your hair." I gave Sam's knee a playful nudge._

_"Whatever." Sam nudged back._

_"Just take a breather and wait here. Let me check this out. Teeth, my ass," I mumbled as I trotted away. _

_I moved through the blades of grass, each the size of a Ponderosa Pine, no, make that a Redwood When I got to the objects in question, things started to make more sense. What I'd thought were jagged, white teeth were actually bits of broken, porcelain and a few scattered strands of straw. _

_"Splendid," I muttered, heading back._

_Sam and I must have passed out and shrunk before we ever finished drinking Bobby's bubbling brew, the teacups shattering when we seemingly disappeared. If Bobby did know we had shrunk, unlike Sam, I was two- hundred percent certain he would have been crawling around the yard with a magnifying glass - not tending his garden and singing hillbilly blues. He'd obviously swept the broken teacup mess out the door - along with us. Bobby probably figured we ditched him. He had no clue we were the size of - I cringed - ant shit. The ground suddenly began to shake - a 9.5 on the Richter scale._

_I froze. "What the…" My eyes met Sam's. He was in the same place I'd left him, struggling to stand and clutching at his injured shoulder._

_"Dean," he called, teetering off his feet._

_"Sam?" I took a half-step toward him._

_Something was happening, and it was happening right in front of Sam._

_The soil began to push upward, like a Troybuilt tractor digging through the dirt - wrong side up. Whatever was tunneling underground, excavating the land- it was big, and heading straight for my injured, little brother. I pulled my knife and made a mad dash toward Sam. I didn't get far, skidding to a stop as the earth opened up and fell away. I backpedaled from the crevice's edge, peering down into the sinkhole._

_"Ah, hell," I shuddered, seeing the tail end of a snake-like creature. Looking up, I yelled, "Run! Sam, run!"_

_Arm tightly clutched to his chest, Sam darted right weaving around a large boulder that had just pushed up through the ground. He didn't get much farther, sliding into a dead- stop and standing perfectly still._

_"What're you doing. Don't stop," I yelled._

_A thunderous blast of dirt shot upward in front of Sam, bits of soil raining back down all around him. _

_"Holy crap! Sam!"_

_Sam's eyes darted back and forth, between me and the monster worm that had pushed up out of the ground in front of him. I blinked in disbelief at the long, reddish-brown segmented body. It had no ears, and no eyes, but it did have a mouth - a wide-open, dripping full of slime, mouth. A mouth that seemed to know exactly where my brother was. A mouth big enough to swallow the entire Geek Squad - starting with Sam. _

_That sure as hell was no friggin' Gummy Worm. "Sam!"_

_Sam stumbled back, and fell to his ass, struggling to scoot backward - a panicked look crossing his face. He was injured and weak, unable to fight off giant-fish bait. _

_"Sam! Get up! Get the hell outta there!" I eyed the gapping hole that separated us. I had to do something before that thing ended up with a belly full of Sam. _

_"Sammy! Hold on," I shouted, quickly backing up away from the hole._

_I paused a moment to calculate the distance across the hole. "Son of a bitch." I wasn't sure I could clear that, even with a running start. If I came up short…I shook my head… I had to try. _

_Taking three more steps backward, I sucked in a deep breath. "Ahhhhhhhhh!" I charged forward, full on._

_Just as the tip of my right boot hit the edge of the chasm, I leapt across the distance, grunting when I hit the other side hard. Tucking into a ball, I rolled across the ground and scrambled to my feet. I didn't wait to see where Sam had gotten to. I only hoped he wasn't in the worm's belly already. I closed the distance between the worm and myself, jumping in front of fish bait and shouting._

_"Right here! Eat me!" I waved my arms wildly, desperate to distract the creepy worm away from Sam. "Down here you lousy excuse for a slug!" Fish bait seemed to sense my presence and peered down. Even though the thing was blind as a mole, I felt its heated radar lock onto me. "That's right, bet you never tasted anything as awesome as me." I dared fish bait with my eyes. Fish bait took my dare, lunging toward me to take a lick, a taste, hell, swallow me whole. I dodged the gapping mouth and used it's wrinkled skin as a foothold, clambering up onto its back. "Ahhhh!" I jabbed the worm with my blade, repeatedly poking into the fat, jelly-like skin. The usual squishy worm-goo oozed out, yellow, green and thick. The damn night-crawler bucked me like a bronco, but I kept right on stabbing. "Rrrrrrr," I snarled in frustration, may as well have been using a toothpick, my knife didn't even slow the worm down. _

_I don't think I even got in an eight-second ride as I was thrown off, whooshing through the air and landing with a thunk in the dirt. I sprang to my feet readying to cowboy up, when fish bait dove headlong into the ground, disappearing back into the dirt where it had come from._

_Panting and sweating, I spun around in a fast circle - desperately seeking Sam._

_"Where are you!" I bellowed. "Sam! Sam!" Nothing. "Christ, what if he…" I shivered, not wanting to think on that, but odds were good - what I didn't want to think on - was exactly what had happened. I ran a trembling hand through my hair. "Sammy!" I yelled louder. "If you know what's good for you, you'll answer me!"_

_Silence._

_My tension mounted, a sharp ache filling my chest. _

_"Sam," I whispered._

_"Here." Came a small, hollow sounding voice._

_"Where?" I spun left. "What in this wacky world?" _

_"I'm here." Sam stumbled out the mouth of a …a…. I cocked my head to one side and squinted to read the words. _

_"Pabst Blue Ribbon," I muttered, Bobby's favorite beer. _

_"Dean." Sam clumsily slipped to his knees._

_I sheathed my knife and quickly headed over. Kid was soaking wet, shivering hard, his injured arm dangling limp at his side._

_"Sam get up." I reached for him._

_"No, no, no." Sam pulled away. "Feel woozy, want to sit." He fell to his ass, batting his girly eyelashes up at me. "You're like…like…like, my hero, Dean," Sam slurred._

_"Shut up," I growled._

_Any other time this would have been a funny story I could look back on and laugh about. 'Sam, remember that time you crawled inside Bobby's beer can and got punch love drunk?'_

_"Dean." Sam slipped sideways._

_"Hey. Hey." I crouched down in front of him, gripping his good shoulder and holding him up. "Are you okay? What's wrong?"_

_"I'd say…" Sam tossed his wet, beer soaked hair back out of his glass-coated eyes. "I'm pretty drunk." _

_"Yeah, I get that." I tried to get him to his feet, but Sam refused to budge. "Dude, we have to go now, before fish bait comes back," I huffed seriously._

_"Don't Dean-out." Sam gave a silly grin._

_"First of all, Sam, it's don't wig-out. Second of all, I'm not. And third of all, you need to come with me, right now!" _

_"Which one of you?" Sam giggled._

_I frowned. "How many of me do you see?"_

_Sam pointed an index finger at me, and started to count. "One… two…three..." He smiled, sloppily. "Four," he announced proudly. "No, wait… five."_

_I glanced at his injured arm that lay flaccid and unhinged, like a puppet - without strings. "How's your arm?" I grimaced, it looked dislocated again._

_"It's awesome."_

_"Uh-huh." I rolled my eyes. "Because a dislocated shoulder is always awesome," I sighed, recalling the pain filled times I had acquired the same injury - an injury that was never awesome._

_Sam and booze didn't always get along, but most times it was fun to get him drunk and watch the show. But this show had nearly killed him, and we just didn't have time. Besides, the beer he'd taken a swim in was warm and skunky. Good news was, Sam was numb and drunk enough that he wouldn't realize what I was about to do - for the second time today._

_"So, I'm your hero, huh?"_

_Sam nodded happily._

_"So, a hero deserves at least a handshake, right?" I picked up his injured arm and held it straight out. "Sam, say thank you." I started to shake his hand._

_"Thank….Gahhh!" Sam cried out when I yanked his shoulder back into the socket for the hundred and first time. "Uhhh," he groaned. "It hurts." He titled forward, ducking and hiding his face into the crook of my neck._

_"Don't it though," I sighed, Sam whimpered. "Easy." I rubbed a hand up and down the length of his back._

_"You're a horrible brother." Sam tried to pull away._

_"Yes." I pressed him back. "I am."_

_"Feel sick, Dean."_

_"I bet you do." I grimaced._

_Sam wasn't as numb and drunk as I thought he was. His shoulder had to burn like a mother. And hiding out from the King Kong of worms, in a crumpled Pabst can, swimming around in backwash, sure wasn't as much fun as getting drunk in a bar._

_"Aawww," Sam moaned._

_"Hey." I eased Sam upward and looked him in the eyes. "What you say we get you up and moving, find Bobby and get us a cup of coffee? You in?"_

_"Naw"_

_"Naw? Why, naw?"_

_"First we find Bobby..." Using his good hand, Sam picked up his useless arm cradling the limb against his chest. "So he can unshrink us, then we get this gum out of my hair, then we can talk about coffee, Dean."_

_"Come on, beauty school drop out." I wrapped an arm around his waist and eased Sam to his feet._

_"Bite me…uhhh." Sam couldn't find his footing and nearly collapsed back down _

_"Okay. All right." I placed a hand to Sam's chest, and kept my palm there to steady him. "Take a minute."_

_"How we gonna do it?" Sam gulped, wobbling to and fro._

_"Huh?" I checked out the area, trying to decide which direction to go in as I waited for Sam to take a minute and gain his footing. "Do what?" I asked._

_"Get this gum out of my hair."_

_"How else." I laughed. "Shave it out."_

_"What?" Sam stiffened, a look of pure alarm crossing his face._

_"It's no big deal, Sam, it's hair, it'll grow back."_

_"No! No way!"_

_"My, God, you're a princess freak. Some of the coolest guys around are bald, dude." I rattled off a few that came to mind. "Vin Diesel, Bruce Willis, Bart Simpson, Sinead O' Conner."_

_"She's not a guy, Dean."_

_"I know." I winked._

_"I hate you."_

_"But, I'm your hero." Sam stared at me blankly. "Come on." With one hand on his bicep I headed us East, hoping to get us the hell out of Bobby's garden._

_"Stupid." Sam shuffled along beside me under his own power._

_"Stupid you got stuck in a wad of Bubble Yum?" I asked, being sure to stay close incase he took a header. "Or stupid for getting drunk on skunky beer?" I cautiously eyed the hole fish bait had disappeared in as we passed by._

_"Just stupid," Sam pouted._

_"Sammy, you got lucky."_

_"How's that?"_

_"Got a handsome big brother, like me."_

_"Right." Sam drug his feet in the dirt._

_"Look, after I shave you bald…I'll let you cry like a girl in the shower, and not even tease you about it afterward. An awesome deal?"_

_"Awesome deal," Sam mocked._

_Of course, I was lying. I'd tease him from now until forever. I laughed inwardly steering him threw the tall tree-like grass, hoping we didn't run into another worm._

_Several awesome hours later, I figured we were on the right track as we past by crumpled, Pabst Blue Ribbon can number four._

_I stole a glance in Sam's direction. He'd been really quiet, head bowed and staring at his feet at least he was scuffling along on his own now. No way I could carry him and scout the area for danger._

_"This is nuttier than that damn movie, huh?" I continued to study Sam._

_"Used to like that movie." Sam peered up at me, obviously struggling not to look miserable, and failing - miserably._

_"Sammy, I think we should stop for the night. Find shelter?" _

_"I can keep going." _

_I smiled at my 'never say die' brother. "Yeah, you can. But…" I gestured toward the sky. "It's getting dark."_

_Sam glanced up. "Let's keep going. Got a few more hours of light left, and I don't want to run into anymore worms."_

_"Right now…" I rubbed my grumbling stomach. "I wouldn't mind another run-in with Wally the worm. Could make a meal out of him."_

_"Eww." Sam gagged. "You're kidding me."_

_"Sam, haven't you ever read that book, How to Eat Fried Worms? I'm starving and Wally probably tastes like chicken, anyway."_

_"Ahhh," Sam gagged . "I read it," he gagged again. "You know, Dean…Wally might be a Willamina… earth worms are hermaphrodites… they have both male and female parts." _

_"I know. Dude, I'm not an idiot." I grabbed hold of Sam's good arm. "I know what a hermaphrodite is." I stopped him in his tracks. He looked green. "Man, don't you ever porn surf?" I dipped my head peering into his bloodshot eyes. "Just give me one good reason, why you would know that anyway, Sam?"_

_"You know why, Dean." Sam had a self-satisfied grin on his face._

_"Because you bought a lifetime membership to Creepy-crawly ?"_

_Sam shook his head, wildly._

_"No, huh?" Dazed-hazel eyes held mine, Sam's grin widening. "You want to explain it to me then, Entomology boy."_

_Sam looked surprised. _

_"That's the study of insects," I informed my geek 'know it all' brother._

_"I know. Dude, I'm not an idiot," Sam mocked. "'Cause," Sam paused, weaving back and forth unsteadily._

_"'Cause why?" I asked, noting the kid was coming down off his drunken-high and probably wasn't going to make it much farther._

_"Hello, De…anna," Sam berated. "I know these things, 'cause, ninety percent of the time I don't…and you do." Sam's grin slowly faded. _

_"Do what?" I wasn't only small, I was confused._

_Sam hiccupped. "'Cause, a person's a person, Dean, no matter how many…hic. "No matter how…hic. No matter how many times they get laid," Sam hiccupped again._

_"You mean a person is a person, no matter how small," I laughed - Sam pouted. "Cheer up, Horton, could be worse."_

_"Getting worse." Sam bent at the waist. "Hic."_

_"What? What is?" _

_"Being drunk….makes me feel…huck." Sam's shoulders drew up to his ears. "Dean." Then down. "Huck." Then up again._

_"Sam." I pressed a firm hand to his back. "Don't fight it, pal, just go ahead and give it up."_

_"Give what up?"_

_"The puke, man, give it up."_

_Sam shook his head. "No. Not here. To weird." He toppled over before I could catch him, landing on his back. "Sam." I crouched down over him. His eyes were droopy and his face ghost white. "Crap, bro, being drunk makes you look bad."_

_Sam waved a hand in the air. "Bein' drunk makes y' l'k pretty," he giggled up at me._

_"Oh, that's it." I flicked at his forehead with thumb and forefinger. "Back on your feet."_

_"'Kay." Sam rolled to his side and puked up his guts._

_"Nice." I stared at the chunks of navel orange and whole grain cereal Sam ate that morning, patting his back as the dry heaves kicked in. Each gag sent ripples of pain slicking through his shoulder and his head hung low. At least the hiccups were gone. "You okay?" I held a hand to his forehead for support._

_"Feel like shit." Sam tried to curl into a ball._

_"Not here." I eased him away from the mess and leaned him against what I knew to be a burnt up cigarette. "And just for your information, bro. I am not pretty. I am extraordinarily handsome."_

_"Don' forget drop-dead gorgeous," Sam giggled and squirmed._

_"Sam, you sure your man-stuff is in tack? Didn't fall off and grow girl parts when you shrunk did they?" _

_Sam giggled louder._

_"Oh, for the…That settles it. We're so staying here the rest the night."_

_"Gotta get to Bobby's. Uggg." Sam's head sagged left._

_"Come on." I cupped his chin. "You can barely keep your head up." _

_"Cold." Sam shivered._

_"I know." I reached out and drug over a dirty, crumpled piece of Subway deli wrap and spread the waxy paper across Sam and myself._

_"Not a girl, Dean."_

_"Dude, I know."_

_Sam's head wobbled down to my shoulder. "What about the…"_

_"I know." I sat next to Sam._

_"I mean, Dean, we can't…"_

_"I know." I tugged the warp up around my neck getting a whiff of Salami._

_"And we're too little to…"_

_"I know." My stomach grumbled._

_"And what if we…"_

_"I know, Sam, I know. You rest, leave all that to me."_

_"Here." Sam dug in his pocket and handed me his half eaten Granola. "You need this more than me." _

_"Thanks, I think," I said as I picked lint off the bar and shoved the funky food in my mouth. _

_We leaned against each other, staring up at the twinkling night sky. I pulled my blade, and clutched the handle tight in my hand. There'd be no taking turns standing guard. I'd watch over Sam all night. Fish bait better keep his distance. Giant sized or not, I'd make sure Sam kept breathing. There were no windows or doors to salt. No walls holding evil back, no ceiling to burn up on. I sat stiff and alert. Aware of every rustle, looking and looking for any hidden danger. We'd never been more vulnerable, like grains of sugar, waiting to be devoured by an ant._

_"Hey, Dean?" Sam yawned._

_"Yeah, pal." _

_"The sky looks the same."_

_"How do you mean?" I didn't bother to look up, just kept staring into the wall of darkness around us._

_"It's just as big when you're small, as when you're big," Sam slurred._

_I smiled, somehow that made sense. "You're not going to write a poem now are you, Keats?"_

_Sam snuggled closer, his head angled against the crook of my neck._

_"Are we snuggling, little brother?" _

_Sam's harsh snoring was my only answer._

_"Guess so," I mumbled, glancing up at the night sky. "Huh." It really was just as big when you're small._

_TBC…_


	5. Chapter 5

WELCOME TO MY GARDEN

Chapter Five

I rubbed at my eyes and pushed myself up straight. The sun was warm, birds chirped, my back hurt, my stomach was empty, I didn't get any sleep, and my ass was numb. Yet, here we were still smaller than a thumb, and still breathing. All in all it was a nice morning. I stared down at the sweaty, grimy, shabby heap of miserable lying across my lap, snoring softly.

"Sam. Sam. Sammy!" I gently jostled him. "Wake up."

"Naaa," Sam grumbled, shaking his gum-blobbed head. "Five more minutes."

"Five more nothing, bro. Wake up."

"Why?"

"Because I'm the boss of you."

"Naaa," Sam grumbled again.

"Sam…" I was startled out of my rant by my ringing cell phone. "Who the hell…" I reached into my jacket pocket and looked at the caller ID. "Are you serious? Bobby!" I answered, sharply.

Sam's eyes popped open and he sat bolt up.

"Bobby!" I yelled louder, but he wasn't hearing me. "Owww." I held the phone away from my ear, Bobby's voice sounded like a necular bomb blast.

"I know you scoundrels are here someplace. The Impala's still parked out front. You think this is funny? I told you to drink the whole damn pot. Don't care if it tastes like dog's ass, don't go blaming me when you turn into toads next time you kiss a girl."

"Bobby!" Sam and I both yelled into the receiver.

"Prank wars on each others one thing. By the authority vested in me, when I get my hands on you two…this here wooden spoon is going to become part of your asses for life."

Before we could try and say another word the phone went dead.

Sam and I looked at each other and winced. "Uh-oh," we chimed together.

"Even close by, we're too small for him to hear us on the cell, how're we supposed to get his attention in person without being squashed under a fist or boot?" Sam sank back down into my lap.

"How are we supposed to keep him from whacking us with the spoon once we do get his attention," I sighed.

"We don't," Sam said, a quiver in his voice. "Bobby doesn't take kindly to prank wars, remember."

I remembered, but this was no prank. "Never fear, Sammy. You're in the legendary hands of the cleaver and fearless Dean Winchester. Leave it to me." I winked down at Sam, making my best effort not to let my 'we are so screwed' face shine through.

"We are so screwed." Sam closed his eyes, and shivered.

"Huh, must be losing my touch." I frowned, swearing I could feel the ache of my brother's shoulder seeping into my lap.

We needed to get going, but seeing how bad Sam looked, I changed my mind, affording him that five minutes he'd asked for. How was my clever, legendary self going to get us through this - armed to the teeth - labyrinth of creepy-crawlies. Get us inside Bobby's house, grab his attention, and figure out how to get us back to normal-size. And - do all that before an army of ants trampled us, or we drowned in a simple drop of rain. More importantly, I wondered how would Sam look bald?

"Hey, five minutes is up." I leaned over Sam. He'd fallen asleep and was snoring again, eyes roving under closed lids, obviously dreaming. "Sam." I spoke directly in his ear. "I don't care if you're dreaming about a sexy librarian ripping off her glasses, letting her hair down, and slamming your ass against the reference section…." I shook my head. Wait, that was my fantasy not Sam's. Kid was probably dreaming about finding a first-edition, signed Hemmingway for the bargin-thrift-store price of ten cents. "Sammy, get up. Right now," I said louder getting no response. "Sam! Wad of gum at twelve o'clock."

Immediately, Sam jerked upright, eyes narrow and searching. "Wa…where?"

"You awake now, Bubblicious?" I grinned.

"You suck." Sam squinted up at me through clumped strands of industrial strength, gum encrusted hair. "Oh, my head." He stretched and moaned.

"Yeah, well, I'm not surprised. You drank a little too much. Remember?"

"Had the weirdest dream." Sam sat there looking drunk and stupid.

"Sexy librarian or author-signed Hemmingway?"

"What are you talking about, Dean?"

"Never mind. Let me guess. You dreamt we were on a hunt, and we got hexed by a witch. Bobby fed us some horrible dog-ass drink. Our junk shrunk to the size of a shriveled up raisin, and he swept us out the door, knocking us out cold. We woke up in separate places in the salvage yard. Took me a decade of rock climbing, but I found you, popped your dislocated shoulder back in...twice, fought off a Godzilla-sized worm while you swam in a can of piss warm beer, and while you slept off your binge, I was up all night taking in the lay of the land, and guarding your drunken ass." I smiled at Sam's shocked look. "How'm I doing so far?"

"Dude, you had the same dream." Sam tousled his hair out of his eyes. "Ahhh." He collapsed back gripping his shoulder. "You forgot about the gum in my hair. Geez." He grimaced.

"Oh, brother," brother, are we back to that beauty pageant crap?" I lay a hand over Sam's and gave a sympatric squeeze. "So, you going to get up or just lay there looking sick, hung over and stupid all day?"

"Lay here looking sick, hung over and stup…Dean." Sam's eyes went wide with realization. "Bobby's garden, the Impala leaking…"

I held up a hand stopping Sam. "Don't want to talk about it," I said, cringing when I heard the far-off buzz of a bee. "Look, man, last night I figured out where we are. See that…" I hitched a thumb over my shoulder. "It's the chrome fender of a 66 Mustang. Things been sitting there for decades. Bobby's place is just past that. We just need to not get eaten, climb up the back steps, cross the porch, crawl under the door, grab Bobby's attention before he steps on us, and get him to undo… whatever it is he done."

"That all," Sam drawled sarcastically, scooting up to an elbow.

"That's all." I shrugged, impatiently dragging Sam to his feet. I was cranky and tired, not to mention my shirt collar was sopping wet from being drooled on all damn night. "Come on, kid let's get the hell out of this backyard circus."

/````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````

The insect world must have been migrating, fasting, hibernating, picnicking in the Virgin Islands. Whatever it was that insects did this time of year, they were doing it. Sam and I had gotten lucky, making the journey to Bobby's back porch without seeing so much as pile of flea shit. We scurried up the three concrete-pitted steps - wait, did I say, 'scurried?' - more like we scaled. Free climbing three back porch steps, when you're the size of a rat's dick was like taking on Everest. Climbing was bad enough with two good shoulders, more than once I had to give Sam a boost. Wasn't sure he could make it, but the kid really was built Winchester tough. When we finally did reach the top of Mount Bobby's, however, Sam dropped to one knee onto the gray slab; fighting to control his breath and holding back a sob.

"You going to be okay?" I asked, standing guard over him.

Sam gritted his teeth, air whistling in and out as he breathed. "I'll be fine, Dean."

"Just rest a minute." Sam was sweaty-pale. He'd be hurting for sometime to come. I wanted to say something, anything to take away his pain, but there was nothing to be said. Sam made to stand, staggering under his own weight. "Hey." I edged closer, and gave his boot a little kick with mine. "Stay down," I ordered. "I'll tell you when your minute's up."

"Thanks, boss of me." Sam lowered himself all the way to sitting, obviously thankful for the order.

"Shut up, smart ass," I snickered, crouching before Sam. "Let's have a look at that." I reached for his injured shoulder, pressing and thumbing the area as tenderly as I could.

Sam hissed. "How's it look?"

"Pretty awesome." I met Sam's eyes, dropping my hand. "Least you haven't managed to dislocate the bitch again."

"Give me time."

"How's the pain?"

Trembling, Sam lowered his eyes to the ground. "Member that time I was pissed at Dad and punched a hole in a wall?"

"Uh-huh." I nodded. "Was a brick wall, idiot."

"Worse n' that time," Sam groaned.

"Ouch." I cringed, kid had crushed almost every bone in his hand 'that' time. He was on all kinds of painkillers, and barely coherent, for days. Hell, he couldn't even string a single word together, but he sure could string a drool necklace.

"Dean?"

"Yeah, pal."

"Do you ever wish our lives were just some made up story and we're really just a couple of normal guys, living regular lives?"

Every muscle in my body went rigid, and I bit into my lower lip, no way I was telling Sam the truth. Sure I wished that. Only, all the time. I wished we could skip to the end of this crazy Winchester story and get to the happily ever after parts. It was a stupid wish, that would never come true.

"Do you?" Sam shifted in my hold.

"Do I what? Want that kind of life, Sam? Work nine- to-five, come home, eat dinner, ask the little woman how her yoga class went, watch jeopardy, go to bed, cut the grass on Saturday, have sex on Sunday…do it all over again come Monday," I sighed. "Nah."

"Dean, that's sad. You really think…" Sam paused. "D'you hear that?"

"What?" I glanced around. " I don't hear anything, except my stomach growling."

"Food, food, food. A billion untold dangers out there, Dean, anything could come flying, crawling, or crashing out of the sky squashing us and all you can think about is food"

"I'm hungry." I shrugged.

"Dean, I gave you my granola bar."

"Dude... you act like you offered me an all-you-can-eat buffet. A few rolled oats can't fill …"

Sam interrupted my rant, "That noise."

"Maybe it's a soft pretzel, a chili-dog with cheese, or a slice of hot apple pie falling out of the sky." My stomach growled angrily.

"Dean."

"What is that?" I frowned, this time hearing a faint buzzing. "Where is that?"

"There." Sam pointed.

Before I could look 'there', Sam had crashed into my legs, taking me down flat to my back.

"Ah!" I grimaced at the pain in my groin. "Would you mind getting your elbow off of my…" Struggling to sit up, I caught sight of the black and yellow Goodyear blimp that just missed taking our heads off, before it went flying back up to where ever it was Goodyear blimps flew. "A bee. That was a bee." I drug Sam up to his feet.

"Very good, Dean," Sam quipped.

"It's still buzzing around up there."

"Any ideas how to get rid of it?" Sam asked, looking really freaked out.

"You tell me, you're the bug expert."

Sam had a blank look on his face. "I got nothing."

"We could use your hair as a glue trap," I said sarcastically. "Crap, look out." I shoved Sam ahead of me just as the bee swooped down toward us again. "Duck and run." I followed close behind Sam, running and waving a wild arm every time the bee got close. "Head for the space under the door, and Sam," I said, "Bee quick, " I laughed.

"Hysterical, Dean, have you lost a screw?" Sam shouted over his shoulder.

"Two." I continued to wave my hands wildly as the yellow and black bitch dive-bombed us. The bee gave chase, darting at us again, so close its fuzzy stomach brushed across my arm.

"Dean, we can't out run it. Just stand still, and it won't sting us."

"Now who's lost a screw?" I ducked and swatted at a large, hairy leg as the bee buzzed by again at warp speed.

"You're pissing it off!" Sam slowed.

"That's half the fun. Keep running."

"You're crazy." Sam half-ran, half-stumbled.

"No, Sam, crazy is standing still doing nothing; tried that once before…bitch stung me anyway."

"I think it's a Queen bee, Dean," Sam panted watching the bee's every move. "No, no, wait, it's a Carpenter"

"Right, and that's important bee….cause?" I scowled at the back of my geeky brother's gum riddled head.

"Carpenter's don't sting."

"King, Queen, One-eyed Jack…she's on steroids all it has to do is land on us and we're dead," I blew out a perturbed breath, tracking the bee's flight path as it circled a holding pattern - a jet plane looking to land on our heads. "If I had my gun, I'd cap the old gal." Bitch must have heard me, stopped her holding pattern and tried to land.

"Get down." I yanked Sam down, both of us landing flat to our backs and staring up at the belly of the beast. I punched and kicked out at the bitch, managing to get in a boot shot. The bee withdrew, buzzing back up into the sky. This was it. I gripped Sam's jacket sleeve, and heaved him to his feet. "Go! Go! Go!" I shouted, leading him toward the door.

"We won't make it." Sam ran unsteadily along side me.

I tightened my grip on his arm. "Not sticking around for another attack. We can make it. I think," I whispered, scanning the sky as we ran. "Here we go again." I slammed us to the ground. The shadow of the bee swept over us, like the heavy overcast of a storm then disappeared. "Up!" I commanded, gruffly.

Sam whimpered as I lifted him back to his feet. Kid was weak, but respected my authority as he did as he was told.

"Left." I jerked Sam with me, one of the bee's dangling legs whacking the back of my head. I shook off the dizziness. "Right." We veered right, the bee buzzing all over our asses. Sam moaned, sounding winded. I knew how badly he was doing, but we couldn't stop. "Faster," I urged, my attention on the space under the door, forcing my legs to move faster. "Almost there." I pointed. "Duck. Run. Duck." Again and again the bee - with attitude - attacked.

"Dean, I can't." Sam slipped to one knee.

Barely slowing, I grabbed hold of Sam by the waist. "Shag ass!" I hauled him up and got him moving, keeping a firm hold on him.

The bee rocketed toward us. "Shit." Duck and run wasn't going to work this time. The queen bee, carpenter, whatever, had us in her sights. I looked up ahead, we were still a few feet away from the space under the door. At one time, I could only slide papers under the space, not today. Today Sam and I were going to slide under the door, that was just weird. "Hit the porch." I yanked Sam down, just as a stinger snagged across my back ripping my jacket, and just missing my skin. "You bitch, I thought you said it can't sting." I bundled Sam into my arms and rolled us one over the other, until we were under the one-inch space.

We came to a stop halfway beneath the door. "We made it," I coughed, scrambling the rest of the way on hands and knees through a thick pile of dust and grease.

"That was close. Gosh," Sam stood, hacking, one-handedly brushing dirt off himself. "Does the man ever sweep.

"Bro." I cocked a brow at Sam. "He swept our teeny-weeny asses out the door."

"Teeny-weeny, really, Dean?" Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, his breathing ragged.

"Bite, me, Sam. You want to clean, find a mop and a rag and have at."

Sam's hand slipped to his side and he raised his eyes to mine. His brow puckered and a small, sad smile curved his lips.

"Bro? What?"

"D'n," Sam whispered, suddenly blinking out and falling to the linoleum before I could catch him - limp and silent.

TBC…


	6. Finale Chapter

_WELCOME TO MY GARDEN_

_Finale Chapter_

_Note: This was so kooky, but fun to try. Thank you for sticking with. You guys are so great! Sincerely - thank you._

_Sunshine,_

_Karen_

_/~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

_"Ahhh." Sam twitched, his face alarmingly white._

_"Hey. Sam. Sam." I cupped the back of his head, careful of the new bump he'd just acquired. "Sam." I gave a little jiggle, and he moaned, eyes fluttering lazily. "Hell of a time to pass out, princess." I patted his cheek._

_"The bee!" Sam jerked awake, wildly twisting to look around ._

_"Whoa, hey-there, ho-there." I knotted my fingers into Sam's jacket, trying to hold him still. "Gone south. It's okay. We made it into Bobby's kitchen, comatose boy."_

_"I passed out?" Sam's brow knitted. "Unconscious?" He slanted sideways._

_"You're a natural." I scooted around behind him for support._

_"Low blood sugar," Sam muttered under his breath, slumping against me. _

_"High alcohol content, " I amended._

_"What's the plan now?" Sam asked._

_"We find Bobby, get his attention. If he can grow cauliflower, broccoli, and Mary-Jane, he can grow the Winchester brothers back to life-size… before something else tries to chomp our asses off."_

_"Mary-Jane?" Sam cocked his head to one side, looking confused._

_"You know, Sam, funny stuff, Ju-Ju, Doobie." Sam still looked confused. "What a geek." I rolled my eyes._

_"Whatever," Sam mumbled. "So, how are we going to get Bobby's attention when we're half the size of his thumb?"_

_"We'll just do it." I slung Sam's undamaged arm over my shoulder and brought him to his feet. "You know this isn't some ramped up Walt Disney flick, Thumbelina," I stated in irritation._

_"You mean Hans Christian Anderson."_

_"Like I said before…geek." I let go of Sam as he seemed to find his balance. "Come on." We walked carefully along. "This is all that ugly, blue bitches fault," I roared as my stomach began its hungry protesting again._

_"Wait. Blue?" Sam stopped and turned to me, mouth gapping. "I thought you told Bobby she was green."_

_"Blue, green, blue-green, teal…what's it matter Rembrandt?"_

_"Dean, I have a feeling it mattered." Sam looked me up and down. "A lot."_

_"Oh, no, Sam, this is so not my fault. You are not pinning this on me. The bitch was fast, you and your low blood sugar were sprawled out on the floor. I didn't have time to think let alone take the bitch out and make mental note of the exact shade her skin was." _

_"I could kill you," Sam said grumpily, picking at the gum in his hair. "Bobby is defiantly going to kill you."_

_I shivered, taking a faltering step back, the image of that 'damned' spoon popping into my head. _

_There came a rumbling-rattle, and a series of loud booms that nearly jerked us off our feet. "Huh?" I grumbled. "What now? Earth Quake, Avalanche, moon-sized hailstorm?" The ground shook and shook some more, followed by a huge mushroom cloud of swirling dust kicking up around Sam and I._

_"Dean, look."_

_"Holy crap." I shielded my eyes, peering up through the dust storm. "Son of a bitch, Sam." From my David-sized prospective, Bobby was bigger than Goliath. "Bobby. Bobby," I yelled, jumping and waving my arms, like a moron as a dark, black shadow loomed over us. "Oh, my, God." I froze in horror, realizing we were about to be pinned to the bottom of Bobby's boot._

_"Dean, watch out." Sam shoulder-crashed into me, knocking us both to safety just in time._

_Another boot came toward us and we scurried like field mice, just barely escaping. _

_We both stood panting, watching Goliath-sized Bobby as he obliviously sat at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and a book. _

_"He can't hear us," Sam blew out a breath, grimacing._

_"You figure that all out by yourself?" I huffed, noticing the awkward way Sam was holding his injured shoulder. "Stupid bitch, you dislocated it again, didn't you? I used my best 'stern dad' gaze._

_"You could smile when you call me that, I did save our lives," Sam pointed out._

_I flashed Sam a cocky, fake smile. Kid was slowly crumbling, barely able to stay on top of the pain. I wished I had our first aid kit; least I could do was shove a couple painkillers into him, before popping his shoulder back in place - for the third time in a row._

_I held up three fingers and waved them in Sam's face. "That's three times in one day, a record even for you." I stepped forward intending to take hold of his arm and do what I had to do - fast._

_"No," Sam snarled, taking a step backward. "Dean, don't touch it." Sam's eyes did a creepy little roll showing their whites, quickly rolling back to hazel. "P-please," he begged, his face seeming to turn every color of the rainbow as he wobbled off-kilter. "It's not that bad."_

_"Uh-huh." I cringed knowing better. "Now or later, Sam, later will be worse, you know the rules."_

_"Later. Need to get Bobby's attention, shoulder can wait."_

_I thought for a moment, and then nodded my agreement. Sam was barely holding it together; I didn't need him passed out on the floor right now, one hundred percent certain manipulating his shoulder, again, would do just that._

_"So how we going to get Big, bad Bobby's attention?" I glanced around._

_"There." Sam tipped his chin._

_My gaze roamed over to a heavy, red tarp bellowing in the breeze coming from an open window. Mountaineering the kitchen tablecloth would be a small job compared to the porch steps. I turned to Sam, his face looked even whiter than before._

_"Dean, I…" Sam's jaw flexed as he peered past me, real panic written all over his face. "I don't think… I can't make it."_

_I knew that. Here's what I didn't know…how many maggots, ants, or hermaphrodites were lurking around in the filthy dust, waiting for big brother to leave little brother unprotected, so they could swarm in and easily bite off Sam's head._

_I tried to make myself taller, standing up on the tips of my boots and hunting with my eyes for any hidden dangers._

_"Dean, I'll be okay, just go before Bobby heads upstairs, 'cause neither one of us is going to make that climb."_

_Ignoring Sam, I continued my assessment. We were surrounded by large, fuzzy critters. They were everywhere - totally creeping me out. I stared long and hard at the different sizes and shapes of dirt, dust, beard hair and sloughed-off 'Bobby' skin - all clinging together in colossal-sized balls. _

_"Would you look at that. Gross," I whispered. Bobby was a great hunter, but he sure sucked when it came to sweeping. _

_"Dean, come on, man, just get going. This isn't enemy territory; we're in Bobby's kitchen."_

_"Shh." I drew out my knife swearing one of the dust bunnies had moved. Dangerous, sneaky bastards they were, and we were defiantly outnumbered. Several minutes ticked by. Satisfied none of the furry parasites was of any danger, I blew out a breath. "Bobby's kitchen, Bobby's bathroom, Bobby's unmatched sock drawer, Sam, right now, I wouldn't put it past your shadow to try and make a move on us," I sighed. "Look." I pressed my knife into Sam's right hand. _

_"I have a knife, Dean," Sam stated, pushing my knife back at me._

_"Mine's bigger, dude," I said, with all the sexual innuendo I could muster, forcing Sam to take my Bowie. "Look," I said seriously. "One of those dust bunnies so much as twitches its creepy, fluffy tail…kill the evil bitch."_

_Sam muttered something smart-assed under his breath that I didn't quit catch. "Here." He reached into his jacket pocket and handed me his Coke can._

_"What am I supposed to do with this?" I stared at the warm, red, can._

_"I don't know, bro, just take it."_

_I shoved the can into a pocket and turned to climb the tablecloth. "Friggin' witch," I panted, reaching one hand over the other and pulling myself upward. _

_This was all her fault. Well, okay, mostly her fault. So I got her skin color wrong. Half-way up, I paused a moment, wiping the sweat from my forehead. This was a rough climb. Strong winds from the open window threatened to pull me down. Taking a few breaths, I started to climb again, my thoughts going back to the witch. So, she wasn't green, her tongue was. Man she was ugly. Big bushy eyebrows, crooked nose, missing her two top teeth. _

_"Of course in the interest of being objective, she did have some major, erratically looking cleavage going on." I shook my head. "Ewwwe…nasty. Did I just think that out loud?" I almost threw up in my mouth. "Least all this shrinking crap hasn't…" I reached the top of the table and gripped a handful of cloth. "Hasn't affected my testosterone levels," I grunted, using hands and feet, scrabbling the rest of the way up. "Gawd," I bent at the waist, trying to catch my breath._

_Hearing a familiar grumble, I peered up getting an eagle-eye view of just how crammed full of nose hairs Bobby's nostrils were. He was chugging down coffee and reading…"Huh." I ducked my head to get a better look at the title. "Romantic English Gardens." I grimaced. "What the holy hell?" Bobby tiptoeing through the tulips just wasn't registering. I never pictured the man other than the tough, macho, 'don't sas me, boy', hunter that he always was. Shaking the funky image from my head, I got back on mission and eagerly set off across the tablecloth as fast as my legs could go. I dodged a few Eiffel Tower-sized toast crumbs as I ran. "Bobby! Bobby." I waved my hands in the air. "Here. Down here!"_

_When I arrived beside Bobby's coffee cup, I jumped even higher still waving my hands in a useless, crazy dance trying to get him to look down at me._

_Bobby just kept his nose buried in his Romantic Garden book. How the hell was I going to…"Son of a bitch." I dodged left out of the way of the gay garden book Bobby had just decided to close and slam down onto the table. __"Damn it, Bobby."_

_Bobby sat back in his chair, staring blankly ahead. I paced back and forth along the binding of the book. I had no real weapons; the cell obviously wasn't going to work, no bullhorn, no magnifying glass, and no idea of any sort on how to get Goliath Bobby's attention. All I had was a Bowie knife; which Sam now possessed. If I was an Indian I could send up smoke signals. "Hey." I patted down my jacket - no matches. If I was a Marine, like dad, I could scale Bobby's shirt and pluck the nose hairs from his nostrils, that'd get his friggin' attention fast. I tapped the side of my head. Think. Think, Dean. Like Dad, like Dad, what would Dad do?_

_I leaned against the warm coffee cup, thirsty as hell. Whiskey flask in one pocket, Sam's Coke can in the other, I opted for the Coke - needing to keep my head clear._

_"Wait a minute." I pulled the can from my pocket and gave it a good shake._

_My legendary, clever, fearless self had a plan. Dodging a puddle of coffee, I ran toward Bobby and scaled his shirt. Getting as close as I could to his nose hairs, I clung to him with one hand and shook the Coke can harder. Cracking the tab, I let the spray shoot out right straight up into Bobby's nose._

_Bobby immediately started snorting and snuffling on pop fizz. _

_"Aw, geez, this is going to hurt." Tossing the can, I gripped Bobby's __shirt with both hands, preparing for the inevitable._

_"Heh, heh, heh- chew." Bobby's whole body shook as he sneezed. _

_Unable to hold on, I tumbled head-over-heels back down to the table, just barely missing the half empty coffee cup I was certain I'd drown in. Luckily, I landed on a crinkle in the tablecloth, breaking my fall just enough to keep me conscious. _

_I stood up, only slightly stunned and yelled, "Come on, man, can you see me now?" I did more crazy arm waving than I had trying to swat at the blimp bee._

_Bobby drew back, rubbing his nose. "Dean." His eyes went wide and a deep line formed between his eyebrows. "I must have drank more coffee 'en I thought." He shook his head slightly._

_"This is no caffeine induced hallucination, Bobby." _

_Bobby crinkled his nose. "This can't be right." He looked around, then back down at me._

_Cupping my hands around my mouth, I shouted up at him. "Dude! You shrunk the Winchesters."_

_Bobby pinched himself on the arm, leaning forward, his big, brown eyes inspecting my tiny self._

_"What in the name of all that's holy?" Bobby didn't look happy._

_"Bobby, it's me. We didn't bail, this is no prank, man, we shrunk."_

_"Well… I'll be a pig in a pig sty covered in the mud!" He gasped._

_I shuddered against the breeze of Bobby's Maxwell House flavored breath, but didn't make a move. Bobby shot out of the chair and ran to the kitchen counter. A second later he was back. _

_"Boy," he rumbled, now peering at me through, of all things, a magnifying glass. "Dang if that ain't…" Bobby paused, completely freaking out. "What? No. It isn't. Dean?"_

_"Yeah, it's me." I made sure to mouth the words clearly, hoping if he couldn't hear, he could at the least read my lips. "Your unhexing potion…it shrunk us." I gestured with thumb and forefinger indicating how small we were, purposely leaving out the part about the old croon being the wrong color - for now. _

_Bobby gave a stern look, then swung the magnifying glass to the left, to the right, then back onto me. "Where's your idgit brother?"_

_I pointed down toward the floor, cringing when Bobby moved to go look. "Bobby, wait, no." I rushed after him across the table, dropping to hands and knees and peering over the edge. I was scared to death Bobby would step on Sam before he ever saw him._

_I anxiously searched the spot I knew I'd left Sam - he wasn't there. "Of course he isn't," I mumbled around the dryness that suddenly appeared in my throat. Damn baby brother never could stay put. Even after that time I'd wrapped him in tinfoil and duct tapped him to a chair he'd managed to escape. Houdini had nothing on Sam. I let out a hysterical little laugh, sucking in a breath and holding it in as I watched Bobby carefully stepping around the table. "Just take it easy, Dean, stay calm," I said, trying to talk myself down from my fear. "He's fine. Stupid kid probably stumbled onto an injured dust mite and was trying to make a pet out of …Shit! Sam!" I spied my brother in the clutches of one of the creepy dust bunnies. But instead of fighting the evil dirt naber, he was pressed further against the fluff ball trying to get away from - "Holy mother of all aliens." _

_The light green creature towering before Sam was unbelievably long, with leathery wings folded down at its sides, huge bulging eyes, and two long antennas sticking up out of its triangular shaped head. It walked on four legs, but what really blew my mind was the two additional pincer-like claws snapping out and trying to turn my baby brother into gravy or something. _

_There was nothing I could do from this high up. Only watch Alien vs. Sam and pray the fugly bitch didn't abduct, swallow, or impregnate Sammy with one of its own damn kind. Sam leapt away from the protection of the dust bunny, lunging with my knife at the alien creature's belly - and missing. _

_"Goddamnit, Sam. I told you to stay put, stay out of trouble."_

_Sam was a solider, trained to fight. He was good, the kid had clanking balls of steel, but even from up here I could tell the alien was cunning, and had my sasquatch of a brother beat by five - maybe six feet. The close range combat continued. Sam lunged forward again, only to be knocked flat to his back by a large pincer._

_The second set of pincers followed suite, about to snip off a sizeable portion of Sam's face. _

_"Noooooo! I roared, at the same time Bobby stepped in. His large hands dwarfed the creature as he cupped the green Martian and flung E.T. out the window. I fell backward onto my ass, shaking hard, a cold sweat dripping down from my armpits. "Crap-fuck-son-of-a-bitch," I swore, gulping and totally sick to my stomach envisioning a bloody, torn apart brother, and/or little alien Sam's running all over the place with bug-eyes and antennas. _

_Ten seconds later, Sam slid off Bobby's hand onto the tabletop, panting and sweaty he slumped down._

_"Ughhh," He groaned._

_"What the hell was that?" I turned to Sam catching a handful of his jacket, and easing him down to sit._

_"A Tenodera aridifolia sinensis," Sam panted. _

_"A-a what?" I held tighter to Sam's jacket, and yanked him close, eye-to-eye._

_"Praying Mantis. Their ambush hunters, didn't see her 'till…too late."_

_"Damn you, Sam." I let loose my hold, shaking hands falling to my side. "I should deck you one for scaring the bajeebee's out of me." _

_"You wish you could take me," Sam challenged._

_"I'll take you, dude, from here to there, and back again," I barked._

_"Oh, yeah," Sam barked back._

_"Yeah."_

_"Double yeah," Sam snipped._

_"I'll see your double yeah and raise you…"_

_"Shut up!" King Kong Bobby bellowed above us. " All that arguing is about as useful as a trap door on a row boat."_

_"Huh? He heard us," Sam and I said at the same exact time - man, I hate when we do that._

_"Selective hearing," I deduced._

_"By the authority vested in me by this here spoon…" Bobby nabbed the spoon off the kitchen counter. " I'll knock the both of ya in the head, and win this butt kickin' contest. Now shut your suck-holes and let me think this 'Honey I Shrunk the Winchesters' crap out." Bobby stared at us long and hard, looking like a big, burly bear that was undressing us with its eyes. I squirmed uncomfortably. "Now, I know I mixed that brew up proper." _

_He set the spoon down in exchange for his big bug magnifier. Thing gave a great close up view - both ways._

_"Gahhh," Sam cringed, ducking and leaning against me._

_"Dude, just relax." I peered up Bobby's nose. "What are you thinking?" I asked, noting his nose hairs were turning gray._

_"Thinking I ought to sell you two to a flea circus. This is ass backwards," Bobby grumbled. "Sam, is that gum in your hair?"_

_Sam nodded._

_"Only way to get that out is to shave it out," Bobby mumbled more to himself than to us._

_"No, no, no, no." Sam tensed._

_"Not like your arm's getting cut off boy. What?" Bobby directed at me. "He entering some sort of beauty pageant?"_

_"Guess, so," I smirked._

_"Oh, God," Sam groaned, his face twisted in agony. _

_"Get over it, Kansas," I gave a half-hearted chuckle, not sure if Sam's agony was over the fact his hair was toast or his shoulder._

_Bobby glanced back at Sam. "You dislocated your shoulder, didn't you?" Bobby shook his head, looking guilty. "Boys, I'm so sorry, I must have miss measured." Bobby scratched at his beard. "But for the life of me I can't imagine what ingredient. I was so careful. Green, she was green. What could have gone wrong."_

_"About that." I gripped the back of my neck, rubbing, a nervous tic I had from a kid. "I, uh, eh, uh…"_

_"Bobby, she was blue not green," Sam blurted._

_"Blue-green," I protested._

_"What!" Bobby reared up. "Dean, you told me she was green. Damn it, Dean, that's like saying the corn is off-the-cob, when the corn is really on-the-cob. Idgit!" This isn't a simple case of you say potatoe, I say potato. Stupid boy, that's like my dog pissing on my leg and me saying it's only rain. No wonder you shrunk to the size of a rat's dick. When it comes to witches, kid, color matters." _

_"Tattletale," I snarled at Sam resisting the elbow I wanted to jab into his ribs. "Thanks for selling me out, bro."_

_"He had to know, Dean, if he is going to grow us back to normal size."_

_"Stupid." I glared up at Bobby through the damn bug magnifier. "So, can you? Blow us back up to life-size?" I bit out, sick of being so small and helpless._

_Bobby glowered. "Ask me nice, boy." _

_"Pretty please, can you grow us back?" I grit out clenched teeth._

_Bobby dropped the bug magnifier to the table and grabbed the wooden spoon. "Oughta knock you in the head with this," he ranted, turning to a kitchen drawer and pulling out a leather pouch. "Here, all this time, I thought you two scoundrels bailed on me. If brains were apples, yours would be sauce," Bobby gripped, snatching a pot from the dish rack and setting it on the stove. "Just sit tight, while I brew the potion up proper." Bobby glanced back over at us. "And see about fixing your brother's shoulder. Kid even hiccups, his arm's going to blow right off."_

_While Bobby cussed and fussed over the potion that would hopefully return our junk to normal, I turned my attention to Sam._

_"Dean, no." Sam begged._

_"We gotta do this," I said, watching Sam's face turn even whiter. "You going to be a wimp, Sam?" I reached down and gently took his hand. "Can you wiggle your fingers?"_

_Sam made the attempt. "Barely."_

_I stared at Sam's twitching fingers, debating if I should do this a third time now, or wait until Bobby had us all grownup and take Sam to the ER. "Your shoulder should pop back in easier the third time." I smiled, Sam gave me the finger - with his good hand._

_I took Sam firm by the arm. We looked at each other. I wasn't so sure I could do this again. Cause Sam more knee-dropping pain._

_"Give me a second to breathe," Sam inhaled and exhaled rapidly._

_"You sure you can handle it again, grandma?"_

_"Shut-up."_

_"Baby wanna cry?" I laughed, but my stomach was doing flips just thinking about the pain Sam would be in._

_"Not funny." Sam winced. "My shoulder's on fire, Dean," he said, sweating pretty badly, and trembling all over as he fought the pain._

_"Want a bullet to bite? Blindfold? Shot of Tequila. Maybe you'd rather just do this the cowboy way. Or I could have Bobby knock you in the head with the wooden spoon."_

_Sam's eyes darted worriedly over at Bobby, who was still fussing and cussing over the stove. "No, Dean, just…" _

_I yanked Sam' arm fast and hard. _

**_Pop._**

_Sam turned back to me, eyes blown impossibly wide, mouth gaping in silent shock._

_"Sam? You okay?" _

_It took a second for the pathway of pain to reach his brain. "F-f-f-f-f-f…" Sam drew in a quick breath, blowing it back out just as fast. "Fuckin' A…aaaaaaahhh." His eyes rolled and he went limp._

_Totally expecting the collapse, I caught the back of Sam's neck as he fell forward, lowering his head to my shoulder. _

_"Good work, cowboy," I choked out, giving his back a pat._

_Twenty minutes later, Bobby set a teeny-weeny thimble of the newly revised potion down next to me._

_"He okay?" Bobby asked. _

_"No." I shook my head tightening my grip on Sam. "That was shoulder fix number three since all this 'shrunken Winchester' thing got started."_

_"Aw…damn," Bobby cringed, waving a hand toward the potion. "Smells and probably tastes like your backside," he said, and I wondered why he cared this time. Guess Bobby figured we'd been through enough. "Drink fast. Only need a few drops. And thank the Gods you shrunk before you could drink that whole brew from earlier, or you would have shrunk into microscopic pinheads." Bobby shivered._

_"Super terrific." I reached over and scooped a handful of potion out, managing to dribble the watery liquid into Sam's mouth and holding his nose, forcing him to swallow involuntary._

_Quickly, I dipped my hand in , cupping the potion to my lips and swallowing fast. Tasted even worse the second go round, and I nearly gagged the my 'backside' up._

_The potion hadn't even hit my stomach when a strange feeling swept through my head making me dizzy. I must have told that to Bobby, because I heard him say that was normal for me, and to hold on to my britches and to my brother._

_I pulled Sam close as a rapidly changing turbulence sent me crashing down hard, then floating into a narcotized limbo of sweet unconsciousness._

_/~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

_I'd been conscious now for three hours, but Sam was still clocked-out, lying limp and heavy on Bobby's ratty, old couch. _

_"He still out?" Bobby asked, from his chair behind his desk._

_"Cold," I muttered, leaning back over Sam, picking more gum from his hair._

_"How's the gum removal going?"_

_"Slow and Sticky, but it's working." I tugged at a strand of hair with a wet paper towel. _

_"Yeah, well, you better finish that before Samson there wakes up. How's your cheek by the way. Mail lady cracked you a good when you laid one on her, earlier."_

_"Not discussing that," I mumbled, ignoring the sting, happy not to be a toad._

_"Think the kid gets all his powers from his hair?" Bobby changed the subject._

_"Nah, he ever puppy-dogged you?" I glanced over at Bobby, his face hiding behind a large, leather bond book. Bobby grumbled to himself raising the book higher, but not before I caught the blush on his cheeks. "Don't feel bad, Bobby. A blind man couldn't resist Sam's mushy look," I chuckled going back to my gum removal. "This stuff works great," I said slathering another glob in Sam's hair. _

_Using a wet paper towel I tugged more gum out. I must have tugged a little too hard, because the skin between Sam's brow wrinkled and he moaned. Shoulder pain or hair pain - I wasn't sure which. _

_"Sam?"_

_"Our beauty queen finally comin' around?" Bobby asked._

_"Dude?" I stopped picking at gum and rested a hand on Sam's chest in hopes of subduing any sudden movements. Didn't need little brother knee-jerking awake and knocking that shoulder out again. Sam's eyes slowly opened, his head turning side to side, gaze darting around the room as if he didn't recognize his surroundings. "Sammy?" Sam's lips were moving, but no sound was coming out. Good thing I read lips. "I'm right here, Sam." I grabbed his jaw turning his head toward me. Sam stared blankly, sucking his lower lip inward. "You remember what happen, Tiny Tim?" I coaxed, waiting for Sam to follow the bouncing ball._

_"Bobby got me with the wooden spoon." I could tell baby brother was disoriented. "Twice."_

_"Nah," I snickered. "Bobby's an old softy." _

_I figured any guy who tosses a man-eating Praying Mantis out the window rather than kill the friggin' thing, sure as hell wasn't going to tan our hides with a spoon._

_"I've a mind to do just that, Samuel Frances Winchester." Bobby walked over, and gave me the evil eye._

_"What?" I bit my lower lip._

_"Don't what me, Dean Eugene. If it wasn't for you thinking you was washin' instead of hangin'… your brother wouldn't be lyin' there dumb as a rock, with a bum shoulder and I'd have fifty-two less gray hairs in my nose." Bobby stormed off._

_"Where…where you going?" I clenched my teeth, nervously watching Bobby disappear into the kitchen. "Crap." I was wrong about the whole damned wooden spoon thing?_

_"Be in the garden." I heard the refrigerator open and close then the kitchen door slammed shut._

_Sam sighed in relief at the same time I did. "So, what else do you remember?" I questioned Sam, still staring after Bobby, making sure he really was gone._

_"I remember…ow, ow, ow."_

_"Hey," I scolded, turning back to Sam. "I told you not to move."_

_"Didn't. Just breathing, man."_

_"Yeah, well don't." Sam shot me a crazy look. "Just take it slow," I amended, going back to plucking at the kid's hair._

_"So, we're big again?"_

_"Stupid question." I ducked my head, hoping Sam wouldn't notice the bruise forming on my cheek._

_"I see the curse is broken." Sam gave me a sly smile._

_I didn't justify the smart ass with an answer, just kept working on his hair._

_"Bobby's really pissed." That wasn't a question._

_"How'd you guess?" I drawled sarcastically._

_"He used my middle name," Sam shifted on the couch ever so slowly. "Damn," he groaned._

_"What is it? Need more pain meds?"_

_"No, hate my middle name," Sam moaned, settling deeper into the old cushions. _

_"Know the feeling." I nodded. "And?" I asked, needing to make sure his computer-like brain was running at full speed._

_"And…" he took a breath. "…My shoulder's really screwed up. Hair, too." Sam wiggled a little more, obviously trying to get comfortable. "Gah," he gasped._

_"Hey, Sam, just take it easy." I pressed harder against his chest stopping him. "You'll pull that glass shoulder of yours out again. Just lie still, okay?"_

_"Okay." Sam gave a small nod and closed his eyes. He lay quiet while I continued to tug and tease the gum from his hair._

_"I smell peanut butter," Sam licked his lips._

_"Found a recipe for gum removal. Peanut butter," I informed._

_"You're picking the gum out of my hair?" he asked lazily. _

_"Uh-huh," I gave a light laugh. "Sort of."_

_Sam accepted that, not seeming to have the energy to care at the moment._

_"You look pretty enough, Miss Kansas," I said quietly, finally getting the last of the glop out._

_Sam's eyes suddenly snapped open. "Oh. My. God. What did you do? Am I…did you…how much did you have to cut out? Am I bald?"_

_"Dude, relax."_

_"Easy for you to say, you don't have gum in your hair. You're not bald as an eagle."_

_"True." I flashed a cheap smile. "But even if I was bald I'd still look absolutely, without a doubt, devastatingly handsome."_

_"And what do I look like?" Sam had a really scared look on his face._

_"Devastatingly average." I pulled my cell out of my pocket. "Say cheese." I snapped a picture._

_"Lemme see." Sam cautiously reached up with a grimace._

_I held the phone out of his reach and studied the photo. "Nah." I glanced back down at Sam. "You better not."_

_"Dean, I need to see."_

_"Sam, you wouldn't want to see this."_

_"Dean, let me check it out," Sam demanded hotly._

_"Sam, you got to get over this whole beauty pageant thing."_

_"Please…Dean…please." I looked away a little to late - Sam puppy-dogged me. "You got to stop that shit, Sam." I immediately turned the phone toward him so he could see the picture._

_I heard Sam gasped._

_"Dude, I tried. I really tried. I've been working on your hair for like three hours tyring to get that crap all out," I explained, still unable to look my brother in the eye. "In a few weeks you won't even notice," I justified. I waited for screaming, yelling, crying, but I heard nothing. "Look, bro, Bobby wanted me to just shave your head. I couldn't do it. It's not that bad, is it?" Sam still didn't have an answer for me." Sam, is it?" I asked again._

_Sam said something under his breath that I couldn't hear._

_"Look," I steeled myself, turning back toward Sam totally prepared for the girl-like meltdown. "I did my best. I did what I thought…" I drew back in shock. Sam was smiling up at me. "Dude, what?"_

_"It looks the same." Sam's eyes watered. "I'm not bald," he whispered in aw._

_I felt my face heat up and quickly stood gathering the peanut butter and wet paper towels. "Yeah well..." I headed toward the kitchen. "Don't Sam-out about it," I grumbled. _

_"Where you going?" Sam called after me._

_"Dude, I'm going to salt and burn the 'damned' spoon." _

_"To hell you are, boy!"_

_I whirled just in time to see Bobby in the doorway, spoon at the ready. "Ah, crap."_

**_Whack, whack, whack._**

_The end_


End file.
